


Staring Contest

by Interstellar_Gothic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3454796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interstellar_Gothic/pseuds/Interstellar_Gothic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat can't stand the way Dave looks at him. Or... doesn't look at him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staring Contest

**Author's Note:**

> an old drabble i never got around to posting or... finishing? or really giving any sort of context at all. i like how it's written though and it's a shame that it's just rotting away on my computer, so here you go.

You can't tell exactly where he's looking because of the dark shades hiding his eyes, but it feels like he's looking directly at you.

"What are you staring at, Strider?" you snap. You're certain his answer will be no less evasive than his shades, but breaking the silence eases your self-consciousness at least. He is silent for a moment, continuing to stare at... you? But then he shrugs and turns his face away.

"Iunno," he says, and you're surprised by the fact that he can make even a mumble rhythmic and almost eloquent. "Just spacin', I guess."

"Well, can you 'just space' in somebody else's direction? You're really distracting." Dave's face breaks into a slow smirk in the silence after you speak, and it only dawns on you what that must have sounded like after his grin has become an unbearable amount of smug. "I don't mean it like that. I mean. I'm not even looking at you, I barely even notice you're there! It's just weird. I can feel you looking at me." He continues to smirk. "I mean, I don't even know if you are looking at me! It's weird! Are you looking at me?" you pause for half a beat to let Dave respond, but get too frustrated by that damn smirk to wait. "I don't care! It just feels like you are, but I can't tell, and--" Dave interrupts you.

"Do you want me to look at you, Karkat?" he asks in a slow, steady drawl. He sounds so calculatedly laid back that you can't help but think he's plotting something.

"Wh-- what? No, what? No." you splutter, so enraged you can hardly speak. "Fuck no, that's exactly what I'm saying, I want you to stop staring at me. If you are staring at me." Dave just continues to smirk. "And if you're not staring at me, I want you to make it stop feeling like you are!" You can't stand his arrogance, the way he seems completely unaffected by your words, as if you hadn't spoken at all. The way he takes everything you say and only hears exactly the opposite. You brood for a moment, then spit out, "Fuck you," and move to turn away. Something stops you from turning all the way around. Before you have time to figure out what it is, something warm and soft and slightly wet is pressing against your mouth. Dave's face is right in front of yours. So close you can see his eyes closed behind his shades. You're kissing back before you realize that kissing is what you're doing.

Once you are finally able to think clearly, you jolt with disgust and bite down hard. You weren’t expecting the copper-tasting liquid that drips into your mouth, nor were you expecting the pained noise Dave makes. You pull back and, for a moment, feel a strong pang of pity for this pathetic human. You shake it off, now disgusted with yourself, but even more disgusted by the familiar taste of freakishly red blood in your mind and knowing it’s not your own. You spit and wipe your mouth with your sleeve in one fluid motion. Troll Will Smith would be proud of how hardboiled you’re being, you think.

“What the _hell_ was that?” you ask, and the shakiness of your voice completely negates any sort of hardboiledness you might have accrued. You are the opposite of hardboiled, at the present moment. You’re softboiled. You’re... _overeasy._

You expect Dave to respond with his standard lack of response and, as such, are caught off-guard when he looks apologetic. His eyebrows draw together above his shades and his fingers light on the punctures in his lip. He shrugs again, but you have to look twice to be sure it was actually Dave Strider shrugging this time. He looks almost sheepish, almost humble. You are overwhelmed by pity the likes of which you have never felt before. Your heart feels full to burst with red emotion. The thought flashes briefly through your head that he might be doing this on purpose-- just toying with your emotions-- but then he starts to speak.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” And he sounds so sincere, so god _damned_ sincere that you can’t help yourself and you’re kissing him again.


End file.
